HYMN TO SOLITUDE.

O solitude, holy and calm!

From tumult and crowds breaking free,

I fly, sick and sad, for the balm

I find given only by thee.

Too oft from thy peace I depart,

Kind guardian, friend of my soul,—

And then bring an earth-wounded heart

For thee to bind up and make whole.

My spirit, now worn and oppressed,

Her wings in thy bosom hath furled,

To sink, as a bird in its nest,

Away from a cold, faithless world!

Alarmed at the shade and the chill,

That o'er me its visions have cast,

I here would lie lowly and still,

Till sorrow's dark night hours are past.

And then, from the dust may I rise,

To mount, as the lark from her sod;

And sing, as the morn of my skies

Appears in the smile of my God.

O solitude, sacred and sweet;

Whilst thus in thy bosom I lie,

Earth's baubles are under my feet —

My heart and its treasure, on high.